#I’ve been worried about the season🫠

[zappedbyzabka]

Robby loves Johnny (and I don’t believe he wants him dead or anything, though he definitely has understandable resentment) and I think Johnny would die for him in an instant. If the next season doesn’t show this more and give Robby some peace, then the writers are dead to me because they really only have this season now. Also, show his feelings about Shannon’s actions too (making him listen to her have sex, bringing creepy men around, letting him starve, etc) rather than just being like “She had free rehab so its cool!”

(I’m not open to argue about this, so genuinely please don’t get mad at my feelings <3.)

#I say the doesnt want him dead thing because I see a lot of people say that😂 totally fine to have that idea. I’m just saying my piece <3 #MY opinion #Not saying no one can have theirs or anything #I do disagree though. so let that be known to any askers before they talk about that stuff to me 🫶 #I’ve been worried about the season🫠 #show ​Writers why act like everything’s good with them both #Seems they dont know how people actually go about things #Both bad parents. Both redeemable. Both deserve grace. Writers let Robby have attention and everyone get their nose out of Shannon’s ass #Just in my own bad experiences. my dad was less there and my mom had parties in our small place with drunks. Guess who I’m more mad at :) #Was mad. Not anymore

[dumbseee]

soft launch.

in which, mick is soft launching you.

mich schumacher x reader.

fc: sophia birlem.

liked by maxverstappen1, estebanocon, y/n and 789 009 others.

mickschumacher: holiday season 🏝🗺

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fan1: wait a damn minute…

fan2: WHO IS THAT

fan3: with all due respect you look delicious but WHO is that lovely lady?

fan4: the pic is so cute omg

fan5: whoever that is i hope she’s good to him

fan6: NOT MY HUSBAND

fan7: mick soft launching?

fan8: the rings 🫠

fan9: who is that slut next to mick?

fan10: new wag alert

fan11: those comments are not it, he’s a grown ass man let him be

fan12: i bet he’s going to ditch her after summer ends lmao

view all comments.

_

mickschumacher just posted a story!

y/n just posted a story!

liked by mickschumacher, estebanocon, francisca.cgomes and 240 103 others.

y/n: say hi to mickey <3

_

fan1: YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL OMG

fan2: mick is one lucky mf

fan3: they’re going to break up in a month mark my words

fan4: i’m literally heartbroken rn

fan5: my new parents

fan6: girlie run they’re coming for you

francisca.cgomes: cuties

liked by y/n.

fan7: they compliment each other so well tho

mickschumacher: hi pretty lady

liked by y/n.

fan8: mick i hope you can fight bc your girlfriend is GORG

fan9: the pictures are so cute omg

fan10: the mick girlies already crying in the comments

fan11: he hid her so well wdym he had a whole gf this entire time?

fan12: i’m so happy for him qjjabakzlzm

fan13: thanks for your service y/n, we now have tons of pictures of bf material mick

y/n: 🫡

fan14: the BIG ASS hickey in the first picture wtf

fan15: ew you can tell she’s classless

view all comments.

liked by mickschumacher, lilymhe, carmenmundt and 192 023 others.

y/n: my camera roll is full of cats we met on the street and mickey

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carmenmundt: ♥️

fan1: their vibe is so chill, they really match each other

fan2: i’m a lil sad that mick is dating someone but she seems nice

estebanocon: i see two owls in that pic

fan3: nooooo they’re so cute

fan4: she’s getting so much hate on twitter but she’s just minding her business??

fan5: WHORE

fan6: don’t worry guys she won’t last till the end of the season 🤭

fan7: the obsession y’all have with random men who don’t even know y’all exist is insane

fan8: so CUTE

fan9: i bet mick paid for everything lmao

mickschumacher: she actually paid the whole trip, i’m just her sugar baby

fan10: JAKQOSPSPPSPSOS BRO

fan11: and that’s how you clap back at haters, guys

fan12: if only others drivers were defending their gfs like mick is defending y/n

view all comments.

liked by mickschumacher, estebanocon, luisinhaoliveira99 and 501 019 others.

y/n: ‘cars outside’ is out :)

_

fan1: not it being a love song for mick :(

fan2: WHY am i crying hysterically about two adults being in love

fan3: "oh darling, all of the city lights, never shine as bright as your eyes." GOD

mickschumacher: why did i do to deserve you?

fan4: they’re so in love it’s almost disgusting

fan5: esteban will have to third wheel now lmao

estebanocon: i’ve been third wheeling for a year now

fan6: A YEAR???

fan7: THEY’VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR A YEAR??

fan8: a year like 365 days? damn schumacher

fan9: nah but hiding a whole gf for a year when you have crazy groupies up your ass every single day is insane

fan10: the cutest couple if you ask me

fan11: i just fell to my knees

fan12: WHEN IS IT MY TURN GODDAMNIT

view all comments.

taglist: @ferrariloverr

#f1 fandom #f1 au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 x oc #f1 x reader #f1 x you #mick schumacher #mick shumacher imagine #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula 1

[velocesainz]

Hey lovely, F1 idea with either Lando or Charles for you. Them coming home after being away a while and going to the fridge for a snack, only to find things you normally hate in there. Because you’re pregnant but you haven’t told anyone yet 🫠

A/n: Hope you enjoy, I’m sorry if this was a little short for your liking

F1 masterlist | main masterlist | Taglist

Cravings

(LN04)

Summary: Lando doesn’t know you’re pregnant and comes home from f1 to find the most random foods in the fridge. What is his reaction? This is kinda short don’t mind

Warnings: none, super fluffy, very slight angst

Pairing: Lando x pregnant!fem!reader

Y/n pov:

I came home with a bunch of groceries, most of them my pregnancy cravings and started putting the foods away.

Lando doesn’t know that I’m pregnant and I’m kinda scared to tell him. How will he react?

We never had a conversation about having kids before so I don’t even know if he wants kids or not.

Lando should be home in another few days so I better make a plan fast.

I put a hand on my barely visible baby bump. “It’ll all be ok baby, don’t worry”

A few days later:

Lando pov:

Finally I’m home! This season was fun but the break is going to be even better!

I can spend my time with y/n and maybe I can tell her about wanting to have kids

I’m at a decent level in my career and we are old enough to have kids, also I had baby fever from looking at Carlos’s niece and can’t stop imagining how y/n would look pregnant.

She would look really hot.

I came home and dropped my bag on the table walking into the house.

I called out to y/n but didn’t hear a response, she’s probably not home.

I felt really hungry so I opened the fudge but the contents inside really surprised me.

Pickles, peanut butter, cheesecake…

These are all foods that y/n hates with an absolute passion. Why is it in the fridge then? Was somebody over when I wasn’t around?

That can’t be possible! Y/n would tell me if someone came over, plus with how much she works there is no way she would even allow a visitor because she would fear that she wouldn’t be a good host.

Just then I heard the front door open and heard y/ns sweet voice that I’ve been dying to hear for the past 2 weeks. “Lando are you home? I’m back!”

I closed the fridge and ran to hug her tight.

“I missed you so much baby. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the last few races.” She told me.

“I missed you more than you can imagine love. Also don’t worry about not coming to my races, just knowing you are watching me is enough motivation to do well in my races” I said to her causing her to blush, why is she so goddamn cute?

“I have one question, why are there pickles and cheesecake in the fridge? Me and you both don’t like them” I asked her. Her eyes widened in fear.

“Uh I uh…” she stuttered.

“It’s ok love, you can tell me no matter what it is” I said to try and ease her nerves.

“Ok…but just know that I understand if you want to leave me after what I tell you” she said with her down.

What? Did she cheat on me or something?

“I uhm..I’m pregnant” she said and backed away.

I was going to be a father. WAIT WHAT? IM GOING TO BE A FATHER!!

I immediately hugged her right and I felt a wet patch on my hoodie.

“You’re not mad?” She asked me with her big doe eyes staring straight into mine.

“Of course not love! I’ve always wanted to be a father, I’m sorry if I never told you before” I told her and watched as she breathed a huge sigh of relief and hugged me tighter.

“I’ll make sure that this baby has the best and most safe love with my favourite lady in the world” I said as we hugged each other tightly and stayed there for a while.

The next few months are sure going to be eventful.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 angst

[cieloclercs]

𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 , cl16 — chapter five

pairing. charles leclerc x senna!oc part. 5/? warnings. basically just pure angst 🫠 yeah it’s gonna be like that for a while 😭 swearing, arthur is such an icon in this icl word count. 5.7k

SAUDADE. in which childhood rivals turned best friends realise they were always meant to be something more

05. everything changes (nothing changes)

author’s note. so i’ve had this chapter written for about 2 months. no i don’t have an excuse as to why i haven’t posted it yet 🫠 but i figured i’m going through a bit of a dry spell in my writing at the moment so i may as well post it 😭 hope you guys enjoy, and as always, please leave a comment or reblog if you did !! <3

read it on wattpad!

previous: chapter four next ➜ chapter six

Nice Côte d'Azur Airport 8 February 2021

NOA DOESN’T SEE Charles for another two weeks. She doesn’t hear from him either, not including his brief message confirming her flight’s arrival time. He’s giving her space, just as promised, and she finds herself grateful for that. The time in between their meeting at the café and the looming date of her temporary move to Monaco is for setting the record straight. When Noa breaks the news to her parents, they immediately assume the best of the situation – they’ve patched things up, got over themselves and finally rekindled their friendship. She flushes bright red when she has to cut off her mother’s delighted cheers, and her heart aches to see the grin on her face fall. We’re not friends, she tells them firmly, despite the pain it causes her. Noa is doing this for her career, not for some distant, nostalgic memory of the boy she’d once thought the world of. No. It’s her turn to be selfish for once.

Flávia is understandably upset. Just as Pascale considers Noa to be like her daughter, she has always viewed Charles as a second son. Even though she tries to deny it on several occasions over the weeks before Noa’s flight to Monaco, she isn’t stupid. The first few months after she and Charles stopped speaking to each other, Flávia had been fairly vocal about what she thought of the whole situation. She understood the hurt that they were both feeling, but as far as she was concerned, they still needed each other. Her greatest fear was that they would both continue to grow into the cut-throat world of racing without the person they trusted most at their side. As someone who experienced how difficult life could be at the pinnacle of motorsports, even as only a family member of one of the racers, Flávia worries for them. She had Gabriel to lean on after Ayrton’s death – her best friend and the love of her life. Noa and Charles, as long as they’re apart, don’t have that.

Speaking of her father, he seems to understand her reasoning a little more. Gabriel Borges is ambitious if nothing else. He fought tooth and nail to win his championships and solidify his place in the Formula 1 hall of fame. It’s a trait he’s passed on to his daughter. Sponsorships like this are important now, with racing becoming more and more lucrative with each passing season. In order to succeed, a driver needs the backing of some of the most influential brands in the world. For a rookie, it simply doesn’t get bigger than Chanel. Both Noa and Gabriel know that this is an opportunity she can’t pass up, no matter how difficult it may be for her with Charles there. They need to make it work.

He may not necessarily agree with her ‘keep him at arm’s length’ approach, but if that’s what she thinks is going to work for her, then Gabriel will support her through it.

With Luiz and Eloísa settling into their apartment in Italy, it’s only her parents who wave her goodbye at the airport. Noa has never been a fan of flying. The seats are too cramped and the people too noisy – she can never find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep. Sometimes it can be peaceful simply watching the world pass by beneath her from the window, but eventually, miles upon miles of ocean gets a little boring. So Noa spends the first thirteen hours of her flight wide awake, silently begging the couple in front of her to do something about their screaming baby. Stopping off at Heathrow for the change over feels like a slice of heaven. Just to be able to get up and stretch her legs for a little while is pure bliss. But within an hour she’s back on a different plane, looking down over the English Channel, over Normandy and eventually, the south of France. The nerves begin to set in then. There’s no going back once this plane lands – she’ll be stuck in Monaco with the person she most wants to avoid in the world for the next three weeks. Granted, she’ll have her second family there with her too, but Noa doubts she’ll be able to shake the awkward feeling even when they’re around.

Jetlag’s a bitch, is all she can think when she steps off the plane and into the harsh winter sunlight. It makes her skull ache, beating down on her, yet offering little to no warmth – typical Europe. If only it was summer here like back home. She’s grown accustomed to heat in the high twenties and sleeping with all the windows open. Checking the weather app on her phone, she sees that right now the temperature is barely breaking ten degrees. Lovely. On top of that, Noa hasn’t slept for practically an entire day. She can already imagine the headlines if she gets photographed – Gabriel Borges’ daughter spotted wandering airport sleep-deprived and wearing no makeup! The press would have a field day with that one.

She just about manages to haul her suitcase through security before collapsing on one of the lobby benches. It’s her own fault for overpacking, really. She’s never been one to prioritise well when it comes to clothes. Noa pulls her phone out of her pocket, quickly refreshing it to see if Charles has messaged her yet – sure enough, sent seven minutes ago: I’m outside. Do you want me to come in and help with your bags? Despite the contempt she still feels towards him, Noa could have cried with pure joy. She sends back a brief yes before struggling up off the bench, all but dragging her luggage through the lobby now. She can only hope he gets here quickly, because her arms are surely about to come out of their sockets if she has to carry these any further.

When his figure appears in the distance, the nerves return. He’s dressed like he doesn’t want to be spotted, in a grey hoodie and shorts, large enough that he can practically hide the entirety of his face in the collar. No one seems to notice him. For the moment anyway. When Charles eventually spots her, he seems to hesitate for a moment – like she’d seen him do at the café, arms hanging uselessly by his side as if he wants to outstretch them towards her, but remembers at the last minute that he can’t do that anymore. Noa’s eyes are glued to the ground as she walks towards him. They meet in the middle. He murmurs a brief hello, and when she doesn’t reply, takes her bags without another word.

They walk out to his car in silence. It’s a black Mercedes G63 – inconspicuous by his standards, and perhaps those of the travellers milling around them (many of them are en route to Monaco, after all). It has black tinted windows, she notices. Charles tells her to climb into the passenger seat while he loads her bags into the back. She hasn’t the energy left to complain. It takes everything in her not to fall asleep as soon as she’s sat down, eyes drooping in the dimmed light, a hazy warmth taking over her body. She jumps slightly as Charles opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat. He starts the engine. Before Noa can really process what’s going on around her, they’ve already left the airport.

"How was your flight?" Charles asks after a few minutes, soft spoken and hesitant. An absentminded hum is what greets him.

"It was alright." she murmurs back, fighting off the sudden urge to yawn. There's an edge of discontentedness in her voice, an air of frustration and annoyance about her. Noa has always hated flying, he thinks. Even as children all those years ago, she'd kick up the biggest fuss possible before so much as stepping foot on a plane. His mother always joked about it being because she can't sit still for more than a few hours, which, he supposes, had a fair amount of truth. Charles knows it's because the whole thing made her anxious. He's held her hand at takeoff enough times to have realised it, even if she never spoke the words to him out loud.  The memory almost makes him smile. Then he remembers where he is, and his jaw clenches shut.

“Just to let you know, Maman, Arthur and Lorenzo will all be home when we arrive.” Charles is, once again, the one to speak up when they lapse into silence, “They’ve planned a, uh, sort of welcome home – welcome back meal.” He relays, glancing at Noa anxiously out of the corner of his eye. She’s slumped in her seat. The only sign she’s even listening to him is the tiny hum she lets out. “I can tell them you’re too tired to do it today, though, if you’d like. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind pushing it back to tomorrow –“

“No, it’s fine.” Noa cuts across him quickly. “That’s really sweet of them.”

Charles nods. He thinks back to that morning; helping Lorenzo pin up the ‘welcome home’ banner above the archway leading from the kitchen to the living room; watching with a wistful smile as his mother set out a tray of paçoca, the little cylinders of peanut butter Noa used to love when they were younger, on the kitchen table. Where she managed to get hold of them Charles doesn’t know, considering they’re a sweet pretty much exclusive to Brazil. He tries not to think about how Noa will react to it all. The thought digs up old memories he'd rather stayed buried, for the sake of his heart.

“If you want you can get some sleep now. I know you’re probably jetlagged.” He speaks up again after a beat of silence, quieter this time, “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Noa doesn’t reply for a moment. She’s still turned away from him ever so slightly, but as he glances to the side, he can see her expression reflected in the window. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, biting down hard from the looks of it. He doesn’t know if it’s his imagination, but her eyes appear glossy, brimming with unshed tears. There’s an ache in his heart that he’s not sure how to properly describe. Cathartic might be the only word close enough. It hurts, but at the same time, it’s almost freeing.

“If that’s ok with you.” She finally speaks, after what feels like an age. Her head turns to the side until she’s looking at him. Charles keeps his gaze on the road, but he can see her in his periphery.

“Of course.” He mumbles, a little hoarse. His heart is screaming at his head to turn, to smile at her, to show a little of the warmth they used to share for each other, in the wildest, most fanciful hope she may be reminded of it and find it in herself to forgive him there and then. In the end, he doesn’t turn. Instead, he hears the faint rustling of fabric on skin as Noa curls up a little to the side, leaning her head against the window. It falls silent again. Now Charles is the one with glossed over eyes, battling himself.

“Thank you.” Her voice, melodic as ever, cuts through the quiet. This time he does turn – but she’s not looking at him, already half asleep, eyes closed and fluttering ever so slightly underneath their lids. He watches her until he runs the risk of coming off the road. Charles knows she’s already asleep before he has the chance to say anything in reply.

Noa tends to have very vivid dreams. She remembers many a time closing her eyes and being greeted with an explosion of colour, scarlet race cars screaming down asphalt tracks, her flag: emerald, gold, deep blue, waving her across the finish line. A glinting trophy is thrust into her hands, and she lifts it high into the air, watching the crowd raise up their arms with her – a sea of red and yellow. But today, Noa closes her eyes and sees nothing but darkness. Charles is nudging her gently awake, it seems, less than a split second after falling into her slumber. Bleary-eyed, she sits up. The Leclerc house, her second home, sits gleaming in the frosty winter sunlight like a beacon. A thrill of excitement grips her heart. It’s been so long since she’s seen Pascale and Lorenzo – far, far too long. Her head turns, a half-smile on her face, to find Charles watching her. It falls. The sky seems to darken.

“You ready to go?” he asks. Noa nods solemnly, waiting for him to open the car door and climb out before sucking in a deep, shuddering breath. When she too steps out onto the pavement, her expression is steeled.

Charles is holding her bags in either of his hands. He gives her a look that, after years of knowing each other, she can interpret in an instant – Don’t even try it, I’m taking them in for you. She feels a small surge of gratefulness, but every positive emotion seems to be drowned out by her crushing nerves right now. Noa’s not exactly sure why she feels so nervous. These people are her second family, after all. Maybe it’s the nagging fear in the back of her mind that too much has changed; that things will never go back to the happy, perfect way they used to be.

The doorbell ringing brings her back the present. They’re stood on the front porch now, shoulder to shoulder, tense and stiff. Noa pulls at a loose thread on her joggers, focussing with absolute resolve on the door in front of her – paint peeling away ever so slightly at the edge. She knows if she brushed her fingers over it, they would come away dusted with white paint flakes. A second, maybe two passes. The door swings open.

All her nerves simply melt away as soon as she sees Pascale; arms already held out wide and motherly, eyes glistening with soon-to-be-shed tears, and the most genuine smile Noa has ever seen anyone wear. She looks only slightly older than she remembers. A few more wrinkles perhaps, a couple more grey hairs, but in essence, exactly the same. Constant. At least this much hasn’t changed.

“Ma fille!” My girl. Pascale gasps loudly. She��s rushing forwards, pulling Noa inside and engulfing her in a hug before she even knows what is happening – but the familiarity of it is so easy to melt into. The young woman rests her forehead briefly against her shoulder, suddenly unable to stop smiling, when before she’d been wondering how she would manage to fake one. Of course, she’s known all along how much she’s missed Pascale. The woman has been like a second mother to her for practically a decade. But being here now makes her realise the full force of the emotion. It feels like returning home after a long vacation, when all you want to do is sleep in the comfort of your own bed and relish in the sensation of being utterly safe. That’s how Pascale feels to Noa. Safe.

“Oh, look at you!” she gasps again, pulling away to place her hands on either of Noa’s cheeks. “You’ve grown so beautiful!”

In the two years it’s been since she last saw the Leclercs, Noa has blossomed. From a scrawny eighteen-year-old with skinny elbows and seemingly untameable curls, she’s truly grown into herself. Thanks to training, she’s attained the ‘athlete’s build’ she always craved as a teenager. Days spent soaking up the Brazilian sun on Ipanema beach have bronzed her skin, giving it an almost golden hue. Perhaps it’s the salt air, but even Noa’s unruly curls seem to have matured – instead of going frizzy in the heat and falling messily over her eyes, they now frame her tanned face perfectly. Honeyed streaks of blonde run all the way through to the ends. She looks different, she knows that. But it never hits her until she meets people again who have been absent from her life for years.

“Thank you.” Noa can’t help but giggle. Pascale merely holds her tighter, seemingly inspecting every inch of her face for anything else that may have changed. She can see the surprise and the elation in her eyes – but there’s sadness too, an odd mixture, as if she’s battling with regret. Noa supposes it’s to be expected. They went from seeing each other at least every month to all but no contact for two years. Pascale is as affected by it as she is.

As soon as Noa is released from her grip, she turns to face the other Leclerc brothers, who have been watching the whole time with fond smiles and wide eyes. She goes to Lorenzo first, since Arthur has already seen her fairly recently. The eldest of the brothers opens him arms to her gladly, and she steps straight into them. Lorenzo has always been like her protector. As the boys got older and, as boys tended to do, teased her or played too rough (case in point Arthur almost drowning her at the beach one time), he was always the one to give her a hug and scold them afterwards. With only little brothers (Charles didn’t count, as her best friend), Lorenzo was to her the older brother she never had but always found herself wishing for.

“Woah, how much have you grown? A foot?” he says, pulling away only slightly so her arms are still clasped around his back, and his come to rest on her shoulders. Noa giggles softly. It was a long standing joke that, even at eighteen, she barely rose to the height of Charles or Lorenzo’s shoulder. Miraculously, her long-awaited growth spurt arrived once most girls her age stopped growing entirely. Now she stands at a fairly respectable five foot six – though still short enough for Lorenzo to use her head as an arm rest, he quickly realises. Noa waves him away with a playful glare.

“Did he talk to you in the car? Or was it deathly silent?” he asks, not even needed to use Charles’ name for her to know exactly who he is talking about. His eyebrows raise as if he’s joking, but Noa can sense the hard edge of frustration in his voice. She smiles at him sheepishly.

“I wouldn’t know. I fell asleep.”

Lorenzo snorts. That’s all they say on the matter, because Arthur is soon weaselling his way in between them to give her a welcome hug. Apparently, a minute is far too long for his brother to spend with her whilst he’s stuck waiting on the sidelines.

Charles’ feet padding on the carpeted staircase draw Noa’s eyes unwillingly to him. She hadn’t even noticed him exit the room, too caught up in reunions and holding back tears to pay much attention to her surroundings. He’s taken her bags up to her room, he tells her. She merely nods in reply. The tension doesn’t remain for long – Pascale doesn’t let it. Soon enough, everyone is gathering in the kitchen, all proud, knowing smiles from the Leclercs and gasps from Noa as she catches sight of the ‘welcome home’ banner strung up across the archway. She’d known, of course, that they were planning something, thanks to Charles’ warning, but she didn’t expect something like this. They’ve brought another long, wooden table from God knows where into the room, placing it end to end with the main kitchen table to make more room for the spread set out across it. A white floral tablecloth covers the wood, and on top of it, tiered stands of seemingly all the food she could ever eat – fresh strawberries, watermelon, French cheese (which Noa had been introduced to by the Leclercs, and was shocked to find she actually loved), pineapple, even some chocolate and cupcakes (something she’ll later say is just a one off to her nutritionist), and finally, in the very centre, a bowl full of paçoca, her favourite childhood sweet. She remembers Charles calling her strange for essentially eating peanut butter on its own – but even today, it really is her one weakness.

“Oh, meu Deus.” Oh my God. She whispers. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, holding back the half-sob she can feel bubbling up in her throat. “This – this is too much. You really didn’t have to –“

“Noa.” It’s Arthur that cuts her off, rolling his eyes fondly, “Just let us do something nice for you. Call it a late birthday gift.” He adds with a smirk. Noa scoffs. A part of her had thought maybe they wouldn’t remember her birthday – of course, she was wrong about that.

“This is amazing.” She speaks up softly after a moment, “Thank you so much.” Her throat closes around the words ever-so-slightly, vision blurring, heart aching in the best way possible. Pascale moves forward to pull her body into hers, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“We missed you so much, petit ange.” She murmurs, “We’re just glad to have you back with us.”

I’m glad too, Noa thinks. She’s not naïve enough to believe it will all be smooth sailing from here; not as long as the pair of sad green eyes burning into her back remain. But this, she believes fully, this she can deal with. Reuniting with her second family has been a long time coming.

They eat like it’s the old times, bar Noa and Charles’ playful bickering (fallen flat, almost dead now). Pascale insists on piling her plate as high as possible, mumbling something about athlete’s diets being too sparse (or at least, that’s what she could make out with her questionable French vocabulary). Arthur doesn’t spare a thought before diving straight into the cupcake and chocolate stand, ignoring his mother’s protests about him letting their ‘guest’ choose first. Lorenzo opts for the fresh fruit more than the confectionary. Charles tries to resist the pull of sugar, better than Arthur admittedly, but his attempts are short lived. By any right, that amount of food should never disappear as quickly as it does – but before they know it, every last morsel is gone. Noa sits back in her seat, deep in conversation with Pascale about latest goings on in her family life, finding her eyes growing heavier with each passing second. Everything around her feels pleasantly hazy; comfortable. It’s the same way she feels sat at home with her parents and her brother after a good meal, lounged on the living room sofas watching cheesy Brazilian telenovelas. Like she’s safe to just be herself.

Pascale tells Lorenzo, Charles and Arthur to collect all the dirty plates and begin the washing up. They know that refusing isn’t an option, so it isn’t long before she and Noa are alone. It must be mid-afternoon by now, the Brazilian woman thinks, but her limbs are as heavy as if she’s stayed up all night and well into the morning – which, she supposes, technically she has. Pascale is observant enough to have already noticed, luckily for her. They’ve spent all of five minutes talking in the living room when she tells her to go up to her room and sleep off the jet lag.

“Oh, but –“ Noa is quick to interject, “I haven’t even asked how things are going for you yet.” She says guiltily. Pascale has been so fixated on catching up with every single moment of the last two years she has missed, that there hasn’t even been time to cover anything else. Noa is acutely aware that the last time they saw each other, it had only been a year since Hervé passed away. She knows as well as anybody that sometimes the people that look the most put-together are the ones who are struggling the most. She just wants to make certain that Pascale is doing ok – truly ok.

“I’ll still be here tomorrow.” The woman reassures her with a gentle chuckle. Noa’s concerned expression falls into a tired, but content smile. That’s the beauty of it – right now, they really do have all the time in the world to catch up. Until of course the new season begins. But three weeks before her soon-to-be packed schedule feels like a lifetime.

Noa retreats slowly upstairs, not so much as sparing a glance towards her unpacked bags, or even attempting to change out of her airport clothes before she collapses onto the bed, and almost immediately falls straight to sleep. The ease with which she already seems to have slipped back into life in the Leclerc house (which almost feels like home) is unexpected, but by no means unwelcome. She just hopes she’ll be able to carry that feeling of safety with her into the coming weeks, when undoubtedly, some difficult conversations will need to be had.

By the time the Leclerc brothers have finished the washing up – a difficult task, what with Charles and Arthur squabbling over who gets to dry the plates and who has to do the unpleasant job of actually washing them, whilst Lorenzo, serene as ever, allocates himself the task of sorting the various items of crockery away – Pascale is sat alone in the living room. She looks calm, quietly assured, but at the same time, they can sense a level of disappointment that wasn’t there before. Charles fears, before his mother’s gaze even turns in his direction, that that disappointment is meant for him.

“Où est allée Noa?” Where did Noa go? Lorenzo asks, taking the seat next to Pascale and looping his arm fondly around her shoulders. Arthur, not so delicately, throws himself face down on the long sofa facing the television, leaving Charles to occupy the lone arm chair on the other side of the room. It’s ironic, that he’s separated from his family that way, when he’s been feeling separated emotionally for far longer.

“A l'étage. Pour dormir.” Upstairs. To sleep. Pascale answers, soft-spoken as ever. Lorenzo nods, as Arthur flips his body around on the sofa so he’s no longer lying face down, but rather looking up towards the ceiling.

“Ah. Le décalage horaire?” Ah. Jet lag?

“Oui.”

Charles stays quiet. He knows full well his family are waiting for him to say something – maybe they’re not sure what, but then again, he isn’t either. Noa hasn’t spoken a single word to him. All of her attention has been directed towards his mum and her questions, or to his brothers and their playful teasing about how much she’s grown. That still doesn’t take away from the fact that he knows she’s doing it on purpose. Most of him doesn’t blame her, but there’s a small part in the back of his mind that feels almost…betrayed. It takes two to end a friendship, after all. Noa didn’t exactly attempt to salvage the wreck they’d made.

“Well I think that went pretty well.” Arthur speaks up first in French, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed over his stomach. Charles looks over, trying to catch his eye. He must sense it, but his gaze remains turned away. Another beat of silence passes.

“She’s quieter.” Lorenzo says thoughtfully. He’s right too. It’s not just in the way that she doesn’t talk half as much as she used to, it’s something in her demeanour as well. There used to be a spark in Noa’s eye that Charles would look towards whenever he needed cheering up. Now when he searches for it, there’s layers upon layers shrouding the once happy memory. Like he’s peering through thick fog, trying to make out a landscape he’s long since forgotten.

“Je ne suis pas surpris.” I’m not surprised. Arthur muses. All eyes turn to him, Lorenzo frowning, Pascale already prepared to question what exactly he means by that. Charles thinks he knows. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious isn’t it?” the youngest of the Leclercs scoffs, sitting up from his relaxed position on the sofa. His eyes are dark, frustrated, perhaps even angry. “First he takes her chance at being offered a Formula 1 seat – with Ferrari, her dream team.” Arthur begins, jabbing a harsh finger in Charles’ direction. He winces, “Then her mother almost dies, and she has to give up her career just to be with her. She’s a Senna Borges. Racing is in her blood. And we all know how hard she worked, just to fall short at the final hurdle – not even through her own fault.” He takes a pause to breathe, eyes now blazing. Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale sit watching in some kind of fascinated horror. It’s rare to see Arthur so worked up. He’s always been the kind of person that can make light of any situation, no matter how grim. But there’s something about Noa and the cruel hand she’s been dealt in life lately that makes his blood boil.

“Now she’s finally made it to Formula 1, where she deserves to be, but she’s also stuck with the person who ruined that dream for her the first time around.” He goes on, turning now to Charles, “Look, I don’t care about what happened between you two. There’s nothing you can do to change it now. But Noa is like a sister to me, and as long as you both refuse to talk to each other, we’re never going to feel like a family to her again. Like we used to.” Arthur speaks, almost alarmingly softly, his jaw clenched hard, “For once just stop being so selfish and look at this from someone else’s perspective. Preferably hers. You know you owe it to her after –“

“Arthur!” Pascale’s voice cuts through the tense atmosphere like a knife, silencing her youngest son immediately, “Do not call your brother selfish. You don’t understand the full story – none of us do.”

That seems to bring him back to his senses. Everything falls silent, but also on the brink of chaos, teetering on a knife edge. Nobody except Lorenzo notices the faint tremor in Pascale’s hand, which he tries to quell by rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. Charles is sat, rigid back, white knuckles, in the arm chair, glaring at Arthur from across the room. Meanwhile the aforementioned blinks as if he’s just awakened from a trance.

"Je suis désolé." I’m sorry. He murmurs, “I don’t know what –“

“Maman’s right.” Charles cuts him off tersely, “You don’t know the full story. You don’t know the things I said to her that night, or the things she said to me…” he trails off, breathing shakily even at the memory of it, “But you’re also right. I took the opportunity of a lifetime from her. She has every right to be angry at me, every right to hate me. That’s why I’m trying to make this right – and believe me, Arthur, I am trying. It’s just…it’s hard.” Charles’ gaze drops to the ground, almost shamefully, “So much has changed.”

Guilt is the most overwhelming part of this whole mess. Even though much of the misfortune that Noa has endured in the past two years has been entirely unrelated to him, he still can’t help but feel partly responsible. Perhaps it was his actions, something at the time he considered to be a mercy, that began the snowball effect. Perhaps if he’d never accepted Ferrari’s call, even though he so desperately wanted it, everything would be as perfect as he remembers. There’s so much uncertainty it’s impossible to predict. But Charles knows, at least from his side of the story, ever since the moment Noa walked out of his life, it’s gradually been growing duller and duller and duller. In a sick sort of way, he half hopes it has been the same for her.

“You do know she could never hate you, right?” Arthur speaks up softly. Charles’ gaze lifts from the ground, eyebrows furrowing inquisitively, “Mon dieu you’re both so stubborn.” He laughs humourlessly, shaking his head, “Noa may act like she can’t even look at you right now, but I know her just as well as you do. Maybe even better now, if you can’t see it.” He arches an eyebrow, “She’s hurting, Charles. You know what she does when she’s hurting? She pushes the people she cares about the most away.”

Winter break, 2014, Charles thinks. Of course. How could he forget?

“I’m just saying,” Arthur goes on, “If you mess this up any more than you already have, then she will end up hating you. But I can see it. Right now, she doesn’t. Not even close.”

Later, Pascale says something to him of the same effect. Hurt can fester. There are only two ways that things can go from here, with them both being kept so close to each other for the first time in so long. Either it brings them closer together – they work through their differences, overcome the mountains that stand in their way, and emerge on the other side even stronger because of it. Or, they’ll push each other away.

“I know what I would do if I were you.” Pascale tells him solemnly, “But you two need to figure this out on your own.”

It’s easy to say that, Charles thinks, when you haven’t made the mistakes they’ve both made. It’s so easy to imagine himself explaining how he thought he’d be protecting her by not telling her Ferrari had approached him. In his mind, she’ll listen and understand, and everything will go back to the way it used to be. But every time he runs the words he might say to her through his mind, he draws a blank. What mere words can salvage the ruins of a near decade-long friendship? What words can do justice the longing he feels to have her back in his life, not just as a distant memory, a relative stranger, but as his best friend. And even if he could find the words, there’s no guarantee Noa will even listen to them. Despite everything, she seems set on keeping her distance. Maybe Charles doesn’t blame her. Or maybe he wishes she’d fight a little harder.

taglist: @harrysdimple05 @ricciardosheart @azxulaa @cxcewg @dakotali @hopingforpeace @flowerchild-69 @destourtereaux @wordsthatwaterflowersinyoursoul @luckyladycreator2 @roseamongthorns13 @chasing-liberosis @laneyspaulding19 @lordperceval-16 @sainzluvrr

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#cieloclercs fic #rose writes! #saudade #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x senna!oc #charles leclerc x fem!oc #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc twitter au #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 fluff #formula 1 fluff #f1 angst #formula 1 angst #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 social media au #f1 social media au

[avatarmerida]

Oh my titan, more your work about the season 3 clip, im melting 🫠🫠

So the biggest headcanon that I want more than anything is Hunter going to tell Willow that he’s a grimwalker and she’s thinks he’s confessing. That’s the kind of misunderstanding I can get behind so here’s what I think/hope will go down with that. I’ve written a few different versions of this before, but given we have only 44 minutes to work with I’m trying not to get my hopes up.

———

“We don’t have much time, should we split up?” said Amity as the group made their way through the graveyard, flashlights in hand. “I know it’s safer to stay together, but we have the walkie talkies so maybe it’d be the better way to cover more ground.”

“We should stay together,” insisted Hunter.

“I don’t wanna split up either but there’s too much ground to cover,” said Luz. “We could go in groups of two, I could go with Amity and-.”

“I’ll go with Willow.” Hunter said.

“Look who’s all for splitting up all of a sudden,” teased Gus, crossing his arms.

Hunter’s face turned beet red. “I mean, uh, I can go with Willow. Er Willow would you like to go with me? Not that it matters! But I figured since-.”

“Nah bro, you’re good,” said Gus, cutting him off before he spiraled. “I’ll go with Vee, that way each group has someone with magic if we need it.”

“Good, I mean that’s exactly what I was thinking,” said Hunter.

“Hey,” whispered Gus, placing his hand on Hunter’s shoulder as he went to follow Willow. “This might be a good time to tell her.”

Hunter sighed. “Yeah, I think I’m ready.” He said softly with mild confidence. He had been able to tell everyone else about him being a grimwalker but with Willow it felt... heavier. He knew that if Gus didn’t treat him any differently then neither would Willow most likely, but Hunter valued her opinion above all others and was worried she’d be upset she was the last to know.

“So um Willow,” started Hunter, attempting to sound cool and in control. “H-How are you?”

“I’m good?” said Willow, sensing something was bothering him. “A little cold, but pretty much-.”

“Oh you’re cold? Here, hold on!” said Hunter, quickly removing his jacket. He did so in the most difficult way possible, pulling the sleeve while it was still zipped up neatly falling over to remove it but eventually he did. He timidly placed the jacket over her shoulders, and Willow smiled.

“You don’t have to-.”

“Oh, no I insist,” said Hunter, bringing her braids out from beneath the coat.

“Okay, well thank you Hunter,” she said, slipping her arms through, noticing how the jacket smelled like the body spray he had secretly asked Mrs. Noceda to buy him. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“It’s uh... no! It’s nothing, no.” He said, clearing his throat and steadying the flashlight.

“Hunter, is there something you wanna talk about?” Willow asked softly. “You seem... distracted.”

“Is it that obvious?” He blushed. “Well, to be honest there is something I’ve been wanting to tell you for awhile actaully.”

“Oh?”

“And I’m sorry I waited so long but I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about it,” continued Hunter. “Luz said I should wait until I’m ready but I don’t think I’ll ever really be ready because I don’t want it to change how you see or think about me but I want you to know because I really care about you and I trust you, but I just never knew how to say it...”

“Hunter I... I think I already know.”

“You do? How? Did one of the others tell you? I’m sorry I told them before you, but for some reason telling you seemed more important so I didn’t wanna mess it up but the longer it waited the more I thought about and I was just so worried that you wouldn’t like me after you knew-.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Willow, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Breathe, okay? Relax. There is nothing you could say to me that would make me like you less.”

Hunter took a deep breathe and steadied himself. “Okay,” he said softly, exhaling as Willow counted. “I’m okay, I can do this.” He inhaled and pushed on. “Willow... the thing is-.”

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Willow said as though the words were bursting to get out, needing to escape after being confined for so long.

“I- what?!”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” Willow giggled as she covered her mouth, watching Hunter’s expression become gradually more confused. “I just... you can go. I just got excited.”

“You... wanna go out with me? With me?” Hunter repeated to himself as his mind tried to decide when he would wake up from what was clearly a dream. “Like... go out? Together?”

“Well yeah,” said Willow quietly, tucking her braid behind her ear. “I’ve... had a crush on you for awhile and I thought you might’ve felt the same but I didn’t wanna assume but then I noticed that you’ve been trying to tell me something so...”

“Well this is... I don’t even know what to say,” admitted Hunter, suddenly aware that Willow was staring up him with an expression he had never seen before. She was waiting for him to say something of substance and suddenly everything he had prepared seemed wrong.

“Well, you can say what you were in the middle of saying before I interrupted,” she laughed, taking his hand. “I have to admit, I never pictured this happening in a graveyard but the full moon makes it kind of romantic actually.”

“It is?” He said looking around, just seeing a dark dingy graveyard. But then his eyes went back to her, and the moonlight made itself known as it highlighted her eyes and he could hear the faint sound of wind-chimes in the distance. Any place could be made romantic by her presence. “Huh, it is.”

“So...?”

“So? Oh, uh right.”

Suddenly Hunter didn’t know what to do. In front of him was the girl he adored and admired telling him her secret, telling him she thought about him the way he thought about her and al he could think about was how he was a liar. He was no better than Belos or Caleb, whoever he was. Lying to witches to gain their trust and affection, only to deceive them in the end. Hunter had been deceiving people his whole life, whether or not he realized it, as although he wanted nothing in this world more than for Willow to look at him the way she was now forever, he couldn’t drag her down with him.

“Willow... that’s not what I needed to tell you...” Hunter said timidly. Her eyes widened in horror.

“Oh my Titan,” she said softly but Hunter could tell she wanted to scream, as she brought her hands to cover her mouth. “I... can’t believe. Oh gosh, why would I just assume that? I’m so sorry I thought-.”

Hunter realized she misunderstood his correction as rejection, and interjected accordingly.

“No! No, you’re fine! It’s not that-!”

“I should’ve let you finish, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable-.”

“-no, absolutely not! I would love to go out with you Captain! It would be an honor!”

Willow stopped and looked up at him, her mouth slightly parted as her brain tried to catch up. “Wait... I’m confused.”

“Willow,” started Hunter, taking her hands back in his. “I do like you.... like that. Like the crushing way. But...” he could hardly bring himself to look into her eyes. “But I’m not... real.”

Willow looked at him skeptically and gave his hands a squeeze. “You feel pretty real to me.”

“No, I mean I’m...” he took a deep breath. “I’m a copy of someone who... I’m a ... grimwalker.”

“I see,” said Willow calmly, not letting go of Hunter’s hands. “How does that make you not real?”

“Because I’m... a clone,” he had said the words many times already, grateful for the practice but it still do not make saying them to her any easier. “A clone of someone who hunted witches and hurt them and did... bad things. I was made to replace him. I’m not real.”

“I see,” said Willow again. “So the person you’re a grimwalker of... he played flyer derby too?”

“Um... I’m not sure? Probably not. But why-.”

“Did he spend hours researching recipes to find the human equivalent of my favorite meal to make me for my birthday?”

“Most likely not, but that’s because-.”

“And did he stay up all night sewing Gus a Space Trek costume from scratch when he couldn’t find one he liked in the store because he wanted him to have a perfect first human realm Halloween?”

“No.”

“No, that was you,” affirmed Willow. “Maybe you look like him, maybe you sound like him, but you’re more than your origins. You’re smart and sweet and dorky. You’re organized and funny and you’re too hard on yourself.”

“But I’ve been lying to you.”

“You haven’t been lying to me,” she insisted. “You’ve been figuring out who you are. Everyone struggles with it at one time or another. You’ve had a hard time adjusting to things you’ve had to learn and unlearn so much recently. But you’re kind and brave and you’re so much more than Belos can take credit for.”

“But I shouldn’t exist...”

“Well I’m glad you do,” she insisted. “Where you came from or how you got here has nothing to do with you. You had no control over it. What you can control is what you do with that existence.”

“I...” Hunter didn’t have the words. When he told the others, they had said it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t a big deal and it didn’t change how they saw him. But when Willow said all this, it almost made it seem like she was... proud of him? “

“A grimwalker is what you are, not who you are,” said Willow. “And... I really like who you are.”

“But... you....” Hunter continued to search for the words. He didn’t know what he expected or hoped for from Willow’s reaction but he knew he didn’t think it would go this well. “You still like me even though I’m a grimwalker?”

“You’ve been a grimwalker the whole time I’ve liked you,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true...”

“Guys I am like so happy you’re having a good talk and everything but you’re supposed to looking for the portal door. Over.” came Amity’s voice from seemingly nowhere.

“What?” Hunter asked looking around for the source before finding the walkie talkie in his coat pocket.

“Blight! Were you eavesdropping?!”

“You’ve been broadcasting this whole time,” said Gus plainly. “You’re still not that great with human tech. Over.”

“So you guys heard... everything?”

“Hunter you have to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking. Over.” said Gus.

“It’s nothing that we didn’t know already. Over.” Added Amity.

“We should go on a double date! Over!” Said Luz happily.

“Shouldn’t we get back on task? Over.” offered Vee.

“Good point, there’ll be plenty of time to tease them later. Over.” Said Amity.

“Why is it so quiet all of sudden? Are you guys kissing? Over.” teased Luz.

“Not yet. Over and out.” said Willow softly, taking the walkie talkie from Hunter who looked absolutely mortified at the idea that this moment has been interrupted. She casually turned the volume down slightly before placing it in her pocket and extending her hand to Hunter who happily took it. He sighed, relieved the voices were dimmed though he could still hear them faintly frantically asking follow up questions. This had gone much better than he had expected. He looked at her fondly as she lead him through the moon soaked layout, lacing her fingers through his own like they were always meant to be like that. Under different circumstances, this would be Hunter’s idea of a perfect night.

“Hey, um, what did you mean by ‘not yet?’”

And then like I think Belos will appear and attack to ruin the moment because we can’t have anything that easy.

#huntlow #toh #winter toh #the owl house #willow park #hunter wittebane

[longtimenospooning-luci]

Happy New Year!!!

I hope everyone is having a great new year so far, I’m unfortunately ringing in the new year miserably sick and with the worst cramps I’ve ever had. 😭

I wanted to take this opportunity to talk a little bit about the future of ACR. (Don’t worry, I’m not discontinuing it) I’ve been working on the next chapter for a long time now but haven’t been able to accomplish much simply because life has its ways of ruining plans.

I’ve successfully completed the fall semester of my final year of college and I’m gearing up for graduation in May (Woohoo!). However I’ve hit a bit of a rail block in life, in August of 2021 I severely injured my shoulder and spent an entire Band season sitting on the sidelines. It took 4 months of excruciating pain to even get a MRI and another month to get a cortisone shot to help, (I have no idea how Yoongi did that for 7 years shit hurted).

Anyway, I spent another 6 months after that in physical therapy with the hopes I could continue with sports for this past season, and I managed to make it about halfway before the pain became unbearable. Friday I finally got my second MRI with Arthrogram (dye) to figure out what’s going on, from what I’ve seen on the images already and what my Ortho has shown me on how to read those images, I’ll most likely be having surgery soon. (And it’s my dominant arm too 🫠)

Here’s what that means for the series:

- I will try to have as much as I can posted before the surgery and most of it will probably be in the next week or so while I’m still on winter break.

- Once the surgery date arrives I will officially go on hiatus during the recovery period until I am able to type with both hands again.

I will do my very best to finish the series before graduation because we all know that’s a whirlwind of job interviews and fully settling into adulthood. I ask for patience and understanding from all of you lovelies during this time and I hope to bring an ending worthy for our MC and the boys.

Thank you and love you all 💜 - Luci

Taglist: @emu007 @childfmoonn @candied-lavender @silscintilla @sporadicfuryface @definetlythinkimanalien @btsizlyfe @rinkud @midiplier @purplebeebs @yoongiigolden @chim-possible @its-g-nm-stuff @ayoo-bangtan @janiva @devilsbooksworld @backinblack1967 @missseoulite @miraxflor @memerswrites @SchokoShaker @simpforhawanghyunjin @simpforhyunjinniw @zae007live @onlyasgoodasitgets @quinsly @fuck-you-im-gae @tinyoonsblog

#acr #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #author!reader #bodyguard!bts #bodyguard!bts x reader #bts x you #bts x reader

[im-no-jedi]

so I’m just gonna say this now so people know what to expect going forward

1) I’m being very picky about what content related to the finale I engage with. it’s going to be VERY sparse. and anything I do end up sharing will try to be from a positive perspective (unless it relates to Saw, Hemlock, or Tarkin, who can all rot in hell 🙃)

2) idk if I’ll be making any gifs from the finale at all. only if I don’t see certain moments that I genuinely enjoyed (which were like two LOL). but it still might be a while before those get made because I don’t think I can even make myself press play on those episodes again yet…

3) despite any indications I might’ve given last night, I’m not giving up on the show. I refuse to throw away the joy and comfort I’ve gotten from this series up until this point over (1) bad season finale. I love these characters too much to abandon them (ironically 🫠). if anything, I’m more inspired than ever to continue writing MLWTBB so I can fix everything haha

that being said…

4) now that the season is over, I’m making my main focus MLWTBB again. I’ll probably make some gifs here and there, and I’ll definitely continue to make art. but I want to both continue writing my own series, as well as give the older stories a fresh restart. I’ve already made a post about that actually.

so yeah, no worries guys, I’m not going anywhere, and content will continue to flow, just not at the level it’s been up until now. I do plan on opening writing requests at some point (and possibly gif/graphics requests as well!), so look forward to that too.

and as always, if anyone wants to chat/discuss or rant about the show, I’m more than willing to do that; my inbox is always open 😊

we’re gonna be ok, guys. I promise 💙💙💙

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #I know a lot of people are suffering right now #and I’m right there with you #I haven’t been this genuinely hurt in a WHILE now #and it’s going to take a while to heal #but I’m telling myself it’s gonna be ok #and I’m saying it to all of you as well #it’s gonna be ok #now is the time to support and love each other more than ever #and I plan on doing exactly that #star warz #tbb spoilers